


Misery Needs Company, But Doesn't Know How To Ask

by InediblePeriwinkle



Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Commissioned fic, M/M, Post-Triple Threat Ending | TT (Henry Stickmin), Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InediblePeriwinkle/pseuds/InediblePeriwinkle
Summary: Waking up to a mission day feeling pretty miserable, Henry expects to just go about his day as he always has. Now, however, he's got people who actually care about his well-being or something ridiculous like that.
Relationships: Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 129





	Misery Needs Company, But Doesn't Know How To Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned drabble by Anonymous! I hope it's to your liking, thank you so much! <3

He woke up that day and knew it was going to be rough within the first seconds of consciousness. 

His mouth was dry and his throat was scratchy. His eyes and nose were running, his head felt like his brain was lolling around inside his skull. He felt pretty miserable, enough that maybe a normal human being would think ‘hey, maybe I should take it easy today’. 

Henry had merely steeled himself and ripped himself away from his soft, comfortable pile of sheets. The ex-thief blearily pulled on his uniform, fitted black with plenty of pockets. He was actually starting to sweat with just that much done. Annoying. He didn’t have the fucking time to be sick and definitely not on a mission day. 

They needed to scope out this Toppat hangout. He and Ellie might end up having to go in and he was going to have to take the lead if that were to be the case. He had to get a hold of himself by then. 

Henry trudged out to the hangar that Charles’ latest million-dollar-baby was being held, far later than usual. He stalked over a bleary, red-rimmed eyed mess with a blank expression and bags under his eyes, and honestly, he should have anticipated a reaction like this. 

Ellie looked at him like he walked up with a few extra arms. 

“You look horrible,” She told Henry from her position sitting on a nearby crate. “What happened to you?” 

Henry shrugged. It was just nature. People got sick. It wasn’t a big deal and they were grown adults anyhow. Thankfully, Ellie didn’t say anything further. She just swung her legs, waiting patiently for their third companion in the team, as Henry leaned heavily against the nearest wall and hoped the room would quit spinning. 

Should he maybe try eating something sugary? His blood sugar might be low, he hadn’t eaten in a good while and he might be hungry. He cringed at the thought of having to swallow past an aching throat and upset a churning stomach. 

Okay, maybe not. 

Henry just closed his eyes, letting the cool wind soothe across his sweaty skin. If he could just get rid of the headache, he’d be fine. He could deal with a squirming stomach and sniffles and his bleary vision would clear if he could just get rid of the spinning, aching sensation. 

He opened his eyes and Charles was staring down into his face. 

He jolted, stumbling back a couple feet, alarmed at the sudden proximity. Charles watched him curiously, head tilted, honey-colored eyes flitting over his form. 

“You look awful,” Charles echoed Ellie. “Are you okay, Henry?” 

“Yeah,” Henry croaked, shrugging his shoulders. “Headache.” 

The look Charles and Ellie exchanged pissed him right off. Like he was a misbehaving child that the adults were having a conversation about. 

‘Let’s go,’ Henry signed aggressively, ‘I’m tired of waiting and we need to leave’. 

“You uh...you look pretty sick,” Charles ventured, squinting at him, “I’m not really sure you should be going anywhere.” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Henry snapped at him, pushing himself upright and fighting off the dizziness that caused. “I’ll be fine when we get there.” 

Charles had his hands in his pockets, Jacket the same color as the hangar behind him, hair in his eyes and jaw set. 

The two stared each other down for a moment, something sparking just then between them. Henry was too tired to try and decipher exactly what was happening, settling for settling the guy with an irritated sort of look. Which Charles proceeded to ignore. 

“I don’t think you should go,” He said again, more firmly. “Ellie and I can take it this time. Right Ellie?” 

“Oh, for sure. It’s nothing interesting today anyway,” Ellie said from her perch. 

Henry rolled his eyes at them both, wiping his face and passing Charles on his left side. Let them fret, it was silly to worry. He was a grown adult and he didn't have to-

A hand grabbed the front of his shirt, stopping him so suddenly he nearly stumbled. 

Henry looked up, astounded, at Charles’ cool, pointed expression where normally was a warm vacancy. 

“Stickmin.” 

Henry’s chapped lips parted at the tone, chillingly authoritative and suddenly _rough_. 

“As your commanding officer, I am taking you off this mission.” Charles tilted his head again, fingers digging into his shirt, nearly nose to nose with him. His words ghosted over his lips. “And you. Are going. Home. To actually take care of yourself for once.” 

Henry couldn’t swallow for reasons entirely unrelated to his scratchy throat. He couldn’t take a single, wheezing breath, too entranced and enamoured by the sudden flash of _power_ Charles fucking Calvin just tossed at his feet. 

He was let go and he swayed, reaching for that strong arm again and finding two. 

“New plan,” He heard Charles say over his head. “I am not leaving him alone.” 

“Don’t blame you,” Henry faintly heard Ellie’s voice. “Don’t worry about it, Charles, I’ll tell the General.” 

“No, no, it's okay, I will,” Charles slipped his arms around Henry, and he didn’t have even a second to enjoy what he assumed was a hug before the guy hefted him up in a fireman carry. “I’ll call him. We’ll put this off for a couple days.” 

Ellie said something else, but Henry was scrambling at the moment. 

"I don't need you to-"

To carry me. Like a child.

"Come on, Henry, it's like when we were endurance training," Charles coaxed him, and honestly he'd not wanted to fight that hard.

Charles was carrying him with one arm, across base like nothing. Had he always been this strong? He wasn't slowing down or complaining or anything. Henry had a pretty great vantage point, staring blearily over yards and asphalt and sidewalk. This was actually kind of nice, not going to lie. 

They were headed back to his apartment. Henry tapped his idiot on the head, knowing by now he had to be tiring. 

“I can walk.” 

“Yeah, but I’ll carry you up the stairs,” Charles said cheerfully, “Sit tight, Hen.” 

Henry closed his eyes against the uncomfortable trip up, and then he was being very gently deposited in front of his apartment door. 

Charles wiggled his fingers at him. “Keeeys?” 

The thief looked at him oddly. 

“C’mon Hen,” The older pilot looked a bit winded but otherwise normal, smiling down at him like a ray of sunshine. “Keys!” 

He handed them over and Charles opened his door, bounding in with wild energy. 

Henry followed him in like a sluggish shadow, closing the door and staring as Charles poked his nose into his cabinets. 

Man, that dominant behavior had just vanished. Henry stared, closely analyzing every movement, but there was nothing of it to see. Not a trace of it now, as Charles whistled to himself and looked through Henry’s sparse cabinets. Which come to think of it, what was he doing? 

“I’m not hungry,” Henry offered, in case he was troubling himself over finding food. 

“Okay,” Charles said easily. “But I need you to go take a shower, okay? Go change into something comfy and I’ll be right back.” 

Henry rubbed his eyes, wishing his brain would come back online. “Charles, I don’t need you to-”

Hands gently slid down his forearms, cupping his elbows in an odd but gentle gesture. Henry looked up to see Charles next to him once again, holding him carefully. 

Charles’ expression was stricken, so much so that it actually made his heart sink. 

“Let me,” The man’s voice was so soft it made him ache inside. “C’mon, Hen. It was going to be a boring day, anyway.” 

God. Normally he could fight against that, argue, but Charles touched his face, smoothed the flush of his skin with his cool fingers, and Henry melted. 

“A cool shower,” Charles instructed softly, “Or a bath. I’m not gonna leave you alone for long, I’m just gonna be next door, okay?” 

Henry nodded, watching as the man darted out the apartment like a man on a mission. Off a mission. No mission today. 

Oh, he was weak for just agreeing to this. 

Being weak felt pretty great, the shower at least cooled his heated skin a little. Henry tugged fresh clothes on, feeling sleepy already. His headache was six times worse, his nose and eyes wouldn’t stop watering, his throat hurt so much swallowing made him more nauseous. 

But oh, he opened the door to step into his room and that occupied every one of his senses for a moment. 

Charles was reclined on _Henry's_ bed, a laptop set up on newly-folded blankets and he was busy with his phone. His tshirt was baggy, his socks were mismatched, and he looked...sweet. 

He rubbed at his eyes and his pilot called over to him. 

“Hey, Hen,” The other’s voice was gentled again, sweet and cheery. “I uh...you have something there to drink. Yeah, should help your throat.” 

Henry peered at the mug, taking it in his hands. 

“Just tea,” The man said, flipping open some horrible heist movie they both enjoyed. “Honey in it. Take sips and it shouldn’t make you feel sick or anything.” 

He took a sip, letting it slide past his throat so soothingly he nearly teared up. Oh god that was better. 

Charles was humming to himself, settling back against Henry’s pillows and looking quite satisfied with himself.

“I’m making you food later,” He told Henry. “No arguments.” 

There was no authoritative tone to send shivers down his spine, but Henry brought out his weaponry anyway.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir,” He croaked, quite unsexily, and Charles laughed instead of blushed. 

“Come here!” He beckoned him in. “We’re all probably gonna get sick anyway, I heard you’re way more contagious before symptoms...might as well have a good day, yeah?” 

Henry fell into his soft, warm bed and wriggled next to Charles, close as he dared. “I’m a grown-ass man.” 

“Yeah, and you should take better care of yourself, grown-ass man,” His friend teased, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and cuddling him close. “You’re lucky you have me.” 

Yeah. 

Henry ended up resting his head on Charles, wrapped in blankets and staring blearily at the material of his tshirt. He was incredibly fortunate. He had a suspicion that the other probably dealt with a lot to take himself off the mission, but he had anyway. For no reason other than Henry felt mildly terrible, and he was worried about him. 

He closed his eyes, soaking in the feeling of being coddled, snuggled, just the mere knowledge that someone actually gave a shit about how he was feeling. 

"You were never going to admit you were sick, huh?" 

Henry shrugged. "I'm not dying, Charles," He reminded him. "Just not feeling well."

The pilot hummed at that. "Yeah, okay, still. I'd rather be careful with you."

Henry didn't dignify that with an answer. He did, however, sling an arm around Charles in return, sleepily clinging back to the man. This was nice. This felt great, honestly, if only he could stay awake for it all. 

Charles’ hand soothingly ran up and down his back, lulling Henry to sleep.


End file.
